Broken Pieces

      I watch through the windows of the coffee shop as snowflakes trickle down to the sidewalk, forming a white sheet on the pavement. Pedestrians are walking around the street. Some carrying hot drinks and pastries. Some walking dogs on leashes. Some in a hurry, likely running late for work. Standing on the sidewalk is a young man who catches my eye. He is an attractive man with dimples and a warm smile. He looks oddly familiar, but I can’t put my finger on where I know him from. The man calls out to a young woman. The woman turns around, and she too looks familiar. She is stunning with long, dark curls cascading around her shoulders and full, rosy. Once she sees him runs towards him. The man opens his arms. She runs right to run into them, smiling from ear to ear. He wraps his hands around her thighs and lifts her. They kiss passionately. He whispers something against her lips. She throws her head back laughing. I wonder what he could have said to her to make her laugh so hard. She puts her head back down, leaning in to kiss him once more. Their kisses are even more passionate, more heated. I want to thrust my fist through the window and break, glass shards flying through the air. A part of me hopes that they land on the two of them –

           “Hey, Claire.”

I turn away from the window and lookup. It’s Miles. He is smiling brightly down at me, his dimples on full display. He is as handsome as ever. I hate to admit that, given what he’s done. I force a smile and say, “Hey.”

“Are you okay?’

I look back out the window. The couple is no longer there.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine.”

“Sorry, I’m late,” he says, taking a seat in the chair across from me. “Traffic was awful. The snow, the ice… all of it was just…”

I nod, rubbing my lips together. He stares down at his hands twiddling his thumbs. We sit in uncomfortable silence for a long beat.

“Should I get us some food?” he asks.

“Yeah…I mean, I’m not hungry. You can just get me a hot chocolate.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

He gets up from the table and makes his way towards the register. He and another woman get to the register at the same time. The woman vaguely reminds me of the woman I just saw outside in the snow. Same long, dark curls. Same plump lips.  He offers to let her in front of him. She denies, but he insists. She beams at him and nods, thank you. The two of them exchange small talk while they wait in line. I can’t know what they’re talking about, but they seem to be enjoying themselves. She’s giggling while he talks. She bats her eyelashes when he smiles at her. He places a hand on her shoulder and bends down to kiss the nape of her neck. She leans into the kiss, closing her eyes and letting out a moan.

My skin goes numb. A lump forms in my throat. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling as though the ground beneath it is moving. I place my hand over my chest, my heart beating fast. I shut my eyes tight and try to catch my breath. When I open them, nothing is happening. The woman in front of Miles is not the woman I thought she was. It is a much older woman with hints of gray in her blonde hair. The woman is at the register telling the cashier her order. Miles is waiting patiently behind her, hands in his pockets. I put my hands over my face and try to gather myself before he comes back to the table. I think back to the couple I saw on the sidewalk earlier. The more I think about the man, the more I realize how similar he looks to Miles. And the woman… the woman looked like –

“Here you go.”

Miles has returned with two cups and two pastry bags. He sits down and passes me the hot chocolate and the pastry bag.

“I got you a croissant because I know you’ve always loved those,” he says. “I know you said that you’re not hungry, but maybe you could save it for later.”

“Thank you.”

Miles eats his bagel and sips his coffee while I take small sips of my hot chocolate. We make small talk about how our lives have been since the break-up. I tell him about how things are going at work and how my parents are. He updates me about his new apartment, telling me that he likes it so far. Awkward silences slip in between our sentences. It feels like we’re on a first date, and this sends a chill around my heart. When I agreed to let Miles back into my life, I never realized how painful it would be. Not because of what he did, but because of how hard it will be to mend our relationship. He shattered our relationship into millions of pieces. He clasped his hand around my heart and squeezed every inch of life out of it. It was hard enough to repair my own broken heart, but now I have to get down on my knees and help him clean up the broken pieces of our relationship.

I’ve been so deep in my thoughts that I nearly flinch when Miles says my name.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, leaning across the table. Our faces are just inches away from each other. It’s been almost a year since we’ve been this close to each other.

“You just seem… out of it. Like something is bothering you –”

“Something is bothering me!” I snap.

A few people at nearby tables look over. Embarrassed, I look down at my cup. Miles reaches for my hands. I pull them away.

“I am not okay,” I whisper. “I… I… wherever I look, wherever I go, I see you. I see you with… her. I see the two of you together, and I can’t get the image out of my head. I… it’s like I’m reliving the same moment all over again.”

“You said you were giving me another chance –”

“And I am,” I say firmly. “But I didn’t say that it would be easy. You… I walked in on you with my best friend...” I stop myself, feeling nausea twist in my stomach after saying it aloud. Nausea worsens as images from that horrible night appear in my head.

Miles says bows his head and moves away from me. He says nothing, but I can see the guilt all over him. It covers him like a heavy coat.

“I do forgive you…” I continue. “… and I am willing to give us another shot, but you have to understand our relationship will never be what it used to be. It’s going to take some time to get used to.”

I didn’t notice that I was crying until I feel a tear run down my cheek. I wipe it away. I tilt my head upwards to keep any more tears from falling. Miles finally looks at me, his eyes sad.

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for what I did, and I will spend every minute of my life making it up to you.”

 He said almost those exact words when he first professed his love for me. He’d said, I love you, Claire, and I will spend every minute of my life loving you. He didn’t mean that. If he had, he wouldn’t have cheated on me with my best friend. I can’t be sure he means what he says now. My subconscious is cursing at me, calling me an idiot for taking him back, and saying that I’m even more of an idiot if I believe what he says. And yet…

“I know,” I say. “I believe that you will.”

Miles reaches for my hands again, but this time, I let him hold them.